YANGPYEONG FALL JOURNAL | WEEK 3

October 9 Entry

One of our daily mainstay questions has been surrounding food: What are we going to eat today? What are we going to serve today? They are happy and life-giving questions. Our wonderful host is extremely gifted in sharing. She has successfully raised our expectations of receiving, mostly food, on a daily basis. So far, she has shared peaches, bananas, two small bottles of homemade kimchi, and homemade green plum syrup made by her mom, which is about 10 years old (thus more flavorful and aromatic), just to name a few. She has also given us peppers, potatoes, pumpkin, chestnuts, and sword beans from her well-kept garden. 

Other than the Kwak Ji Won Bakery which requires a 15-minute scenic drive from our place, we found a competent bakery close to our place. When we are preparing for guests and pressed for time, the one close to our place became our go-to bakery. It is run by two sisters who look very much alike. We tried their baguette for the first time during this stay as we enjoyed their ciabatta bread in the past. To our surprise, it was one of the best we have eaten, anywhere. It was perfectly light with enough crustiness on the outside to cut and even shred the palate if not careful, and airy and a bit of chewiness inside. One problem. They open at 9 am. I promptly swung by and told them our dilemma. They offered a delightful solution since they arrive early to bake, they could bake the baguette by a certain time, and we can pick them up before they are officially open. While thanking them for their kind thoughtfulness, I asked them if 8 am would work. They replied with a pleasant yes which made us feel like, “Ok, we are part of this community.” We paid right there and then and came the next morning and picked up a freshly baked baguette. The following morning, we doubled the order and picked them up at 8 am again. 

My cousin, who I consider to be the older sister I never had, visited me today. I had made plans to go to Hanjeongsik (Korean table d’hote but more elaborate than what the French may be used to) for lunch nearby. Thus, I ate pumpkin porridge for breakfast from our host’s garden skillfully crafted by my wife. That was a strategic move on my part because I knew what awaited me for lunch! The restaurant sits on farmland, invisible from the main road. Though there is a restaurant sign on the road, it is mainly for those who already know and want to come to the restaurant, since the signage does not match the exceptional quality of the food. I had accidentally found out about the place and knew exactly what to expect. My cousin ordered the top-tier course meal of Hanjeongsik, appropriately called “empress” Jeongsik, apparently because a former Korean empress was born in the same neighborhood in the late 19th century. 

The fabulous spread induced multiple wows as countless dishes, too many to count, covered every single space of our large table. We were told that most of their vegetables are grown right on their farmland. I helped to clear most of the dishes valiantly except for a couple of beef dishes, as I could not rely on my wife and my cousin much, all the while wondering about the dishwashing load for an unfortunate soul that day. For dinner, I had pumpkin porridge and a piece of bread, since my stomach was happily still full from lunch. Today’s meals were accentuated by the impressive “empress” course meal bookended by “pauper” pumpkin porridges. 

Eating is a sacred act. Maybe except for the water we drink (which travels from “heaven” to deep “earth” to us), every single food we put in our mouths is a result of something dying. The beef and pork we ate for lunch nourished, sustained, and “gave” us life because they gave up their lives. The vegetables and fruits we pluck, uproot, pick, and gather (because they fell to the ground) are all because they “gave up” their lives. The coffee I enjoy daily is from the beans someone picked from a tree halfway around the world. It is a sacred and paradoxical act because we are eating something that gave its life so we can live. 

Sharing food as in table fellowship is thus also a sacred act. We get to communally experience what it means for us to live because of something else’s death. It is a communal act of remembrance and a celebration of our lives. 

We are not exempt from the poetic cycle of death and life either. I will meet and face death as all will. The same nature’s law will apply: our deaths will sustain the life of something else or lives or give a new life to someone(s) or something(s). 

Jesus’ words “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me” refers to the bread we break and share. Bread comes to us in the same paradoxical manner: some things had to die in order for us to live. Perhaps, Jesus’ words are not meant to only apply to the holy sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, rather it is a daily reminder that when we eat “bread,” (or anything else we eat) that “gave up” its life, we are to remember Jesus’ death. Jesus’ death, signifying and representing all deaths, gives us new life, the life of eternity.

This season of autumn bears the same paradoxical cycle of truth: decaying and impending dying in contrast to becoming seeds to bearing life in spring. What is remarkable is that nature showcases its decaying season’s last wonder through its own “fireworks” of multi-colored foliage before finally dying (which really is not dying). Additionally, nature seems to give and empty itself out until the very end culminating in what we call harvest. Nature seemingly gives and gives until the very end. 

We live benefitting from the “death” of creation. In promoting perpetuity, we will all die so someone or something else can live. Today, I remember and give my utmost tribute to a friend of mine who just passed due to an untimely illness less than two weeks ago. It is a worthy reminder for me to believe that his death is not the end, but the beginning of something or someone that I simply cannot wrap my mind around. The plain truth that all will die is not a morbid thought, but a reflection of hope and nature’s continuity, which is holding paradoxes in perfect mysterious union and ultimately conducted in love by the Master of the universe.